


When the Shadows Descend

by roseandheather



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6563236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Honestly, he's not even sure <i>she</i> knows what the trigger was. For all he knows, it could have been nothing more or less than an unlucky confluence of entirely separate events, not enough to kick it off on their own, but more than enough when all put together."</p><p>When no one else can, Ed reaches through the panic.</p><p>More importantly, Leanne lets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Shadows Descend

He never does find out what triggered it.

Honestly, he's not even sure _she_ knows what the trigger was. For all he knows, it could have been nothing more or less than an unlucky confluence of entirely separate events, not enough to kick it off on their own, but more than enough when all put together.

He answers the phone with rather a lot of puzzlement; the ER virtually _never_ calls him unless there's a rare VIP visit, and even then, it's usually the VIP doing the calling. When Leanne wants something - or is angry about something, which is the more usual scenario - she prefers to bang on his office door until she's either informed he's not in (and that only works when he truly _isn't)_ or the receptionist is sufficiently annoyed to wave her on through, then come yell at him in person.

"Dr. Hudson? Is something the matter?"

 _"It's Leanne,_ " the surgeon says on the other end of the line, and Ed feels cold chills down his spine. _"She shut herself in her office about fifteen minutes ago and she won't let anyone in. Not me, not Christa - not even Jesse. Dr. Harbert - I'm worried. I know you two have your disagreements, but she trusts you, and you're our Hail Mary. Can you help?"_

"I'm on my way," he says shortly, and hangs up to the sound of Neal's abject sigh of relief.

"Go away," croaks Leanne from the other side of the door.

"Not happening, Leanne," he says firmly. "Unless you're naked, I'm coming in there." And without further ado, he pushes the door open.

What he sees quite simply breaks his heart. She's huddled against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest, and she's gasping for breath. He can already see the slightest of blue tinges under her fingernails, which is worrying enough, but she's shaking and gulping for air, stray tears escaping from her eyes, and she looks _terrified._

 _Panic attack,_ says the clinical part of his brain coolly - for which he is extremely thankful, because the part of him that considers Leanne Rorish one of his dearest friends on earth is currently gibbering in terror. _And it's been going on for awhile. First step: get her breathing under control before she faints._

He crouches beside her, resting one hand gently on her shoulder. She moans, low in the back of her throat, but he can feel her leaning into his touch, and that's all he needs. "Leanne, I need you to focus on my voice," he says calmly. "I'm going to get you away from the wall now. You're not doing your lungs any favors all curled up like that, okay?" She nods jerkily, and when he draws her toward him, she seems to make some sort of an effort to help - a sign that he's getting through to her, thank God. He kneels behind her, then draws her back against his chest and extends his legs on either side of hers. She shrinks more closely against him, and he takes her right hand in his, then places his left on her abdomen. She's breathing entirely from her chest and shaking all over, but the feeling of his arms around her seems to comfort her some, and she turns her face into the curve of his neck. 

"Okay, Leanne," he continues, with a calm he definitely doesn't feel. "I've got you, all right? I've got you, and I'm not going to let you go until you ask me to. Can you feel my hand on your stomach?" Again, she nods jerkily, squeezing his other hand with hers as though it's the only thing she has. "I need you to breathe into my hand, all right? In - two - three - four. Good. Hold - two - three, and out - two - three - four. That's it. _Good_ girl. In - "

On and on it goes, for minutes that seem endless. Sometimes she loses the rhythm completely and he has to start the count over from scratch, easing her through coughing fits and shaking shoulders. Eventually, though, he doesn't have to say the numbers any more; he just breathes in tandem with her, murmuring "In.... hold.... out...." in a steady rhythm, occasionally rubbing her stomach a little to remind her to breathe deep and not from her chest.

Finally she settles into the count on her own, whispering the words hoarsely, and he keeps to it, murmuring reassurances in her ear all the while. "I'm right here," he says, through a throat thick with his own tears. "That's it, Leanne. You're doing so well, sweetheart. There you go, I've got you...."

When the spasms finally ease, she's trembling like a leaf and soaked in sweat, but when she curls up again and huddles against his chest he doesn't have the heart to force her back out of it. Her breathing is finally regular, she's not gasping for air, and she has the breath to cry - and he'll take it.

He wraps his arms around her and just _holds._

"Do you want me to let go?" he asks her eventually, and she shakes her head furiously.

"Okay. Do you want to just sit here for awhile?"

She nods, still shaking, so he draws her more closely to him, tucks her head under his chin, and gently rubs her back until her sobs finally ease.

"I'm sorry," she rasps at last, but doesn't make a move to leave his arms. "God, it's been _years_ since..."

"Don't apologize," he says, a little more harshly than he intended. " _God,_ Leanne - I'm just glad I was able to help."

She shakes her head. "I feel like such an _idiot._ "

"Don't you ever say that again," he says sharply. "This does _not_ make you weak, or foolish, or anything of the kind."

Unconvinced, she shrugs. "I'm supposed to be able to _handle_ myself," she says bitterly. "And here I am like a - "

"I had maybe a dozen panic attacks in the weeks after Gina died," he interrupts, and she goes still.

"Sometimes it was from nightmares. Sometimes it was just light glinting off a metal sign. Once it was because I cut my finger in the kitchen and all it took was the sight of blood." He feels her huddle closer, and hugs her just a little bit tighter.  "I still get them, sometimes, and I wasn't even _there_ at the time. You're not alone, Leanne. You are _not_ the only one. We help each other, okay?" She turns big, bright eyes on his, and he smiles, just a little sadly. "I want to be your friend, Leanne. And I want you to be mine, too."

She studies him for a moment longer, and then - oh, thank you _God -_ she smiles.

"You already are," she says hoarsely. _"We_ already are." Gently, she bumps his shoulder with hers. "We help each other."

"Yeah," he says roughly, and rubs his thumb over her shoulder blade as she rests her head on his shoulder. "We help each other."

They don't say anything else after that. They don't have to.

And until the ER hits Code Black, she doesn't move from his arms.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Malika was kind enough to let me poach the premise of "Fix You" for my own purposes. So, naturally, this is for her. (Even if the evil archive won't let me find her in the "gift to" field.)
> 
> Also for Iris, who indulges my ranting about Ed/Leanne with patience and good humor. (And also writes damn good fic.)


End file.
